Laundry Wife Craig
by XxDarkSarcasm1010xX
Summary: They told him that boy's can't like laundry. They told him that only mother's did laundry. Well, if that's the case, then in order for Craig Tucker to fufill his lifelong dream of doing laundry, he's going to have to find a husband and become a mommy. One shot. Slight Crenny. Slight Craiman. Slight Creek.


Mommy Craig the Laundry Wife

It had all started when Tourette's Thomas had made an appearance. There was something so cool, and so kickass about the swearing boy that Thomas had become one of Craig's favorite people in the short time the boy had been in South Park. Because of that, Craig had offered to do his favorite thing for his favorite swearing blonde.

The phrase "Can I do your laundry" had never been more invigorating.

For any other ten year old boy, laundry was a wild and unfathomable chore. Dirty clothes and dangerous chemicals were ingredients for disaster. But Craig Tucker wasn't an ordinary ten year old boy. The blunt, finger flipping, guinea pig adoring Tucker was hopelessly in love with the act of doing laundry.

When Mr. Garrison assigned their newest project in class one day it couldn't have been more perfect; it was about creating a poster, a presentation, and bringing in some objects related to their dream job.

"It's due at the end of the week and for the love of god, keep it _appropriate_." The man glared specifically at Cartman and McCormick.

Craig had never been more excited for a school project before. Actually, he had never been excited for anything in his whole life before, so this was a first. As soon as he got home he was starting his presentation about the best job ever.

As Friday rolled around Craig waited patiently for his classmates to present their jobs.

Kyle wanted to be a children's doctor; Stan a cook; Token a therapist; Clyde a movie star; Cartman wanted to be president; Butters wanted to dance, if his parent's let him; Kevin wanted to work on comic books; Tweek wanted to manage Harbucks; Kenny wanted to marry rich.

Mr. Garrison crossed his arms and snapped, "Kenny, Gold Digging _is not a job_!"

"Tell the Kardashian's that!" Kenny retorted.

When it was Craig's turn, fucking _finally_, he stood up in front of the class and pulled out his poster and items, and ignored the confused looks on his classmate's faces.

With an empty bottle of tide in one hand, and a box of dryer sheets in the other, Craig gave a simple nod, "My dream job is doing laundry. I want to wash all kinds of laundry, all types of clothing, and all types of materials."

Everyone, including his teacher, stared at him blankly as Craig continued to talk about the different kind of bleach's there were, and how leather couldn't be washed unless you wanted to ruin it, and how it was better not to mix the red's with the whites, and most importantly, if the label said to hand wash, you better hand wash the damn thing.

When no one commented, or even clapped for his well prepared, insightful, and accurate presentation, Craig gave his class the finger and strolled back to his desk to get his things as the bell rang.

Mr. Garrison grabbed Craig's shoulder and waited for the students to file out before staring down at him.

"Ugh, Craig, you're presentation was ugh, very interesting." Mr. Garrison stated hesitantly.

Craig nodded, "I know."

"No, I mean, not in a good way. Hmm, how can I tell you this?" Mr. Garrison stroked his chin, "Boys can't like doing laundry, okay Craig? Only women and queers like domestic chores. You see what I'm saying here Craig?"

Craig took a step back, eyes furrowed in confusion. "I'm not a queer or a woman."

"Well you better change your tune or you better get yourself a vagina. A boy liking laundry, pfft," He snorted before walking out of the classroom.

Craig grabbed his bag and started the short walk home, brooding as his teacher's words assaulted his mind. What was so wrong with him loving laundry? Was it really that weird that he did it? He'd have to ask someone before deciding what to do. As he made it onto the porch his father pulled up into the driveway, and he figured who better to ask then his own dad.

He was greeted with a middle finger, and surprisingly, Craig couldn't bother to flip his father off in return.

His dad furrowed his brows before opening the front door and walking into the kitchen. "What's wrong with you, boy?"

Craig dropped his bag to the floor and stared at his father, "Do you ever do laundry?"

"Laundry? Fuck no, that's a woman's chore." He said casually, grabbing a beer from the fridge, "Your mother does that kind of stuff."

"Did your mother do it too?"

His father gave him a dubious look, "Yea my ma did laundry. I'm pretty sure all mothers do laundry. Now stop bothering me with this laundry bullshit, what are you, a chick?"

Craig finally flipped his father off before storming outside, his arms crossed.

So boys couldn't like doing laundry.

And only mothers could do it.

Sighing, Craig was at a dilemma. There had to be a way for him to be able to do his favorite thing in the world without being ostracized for it.

And then the solution came to him.

"If only mothers can do laundry, then all I have to do is become a mom." He stated obviously to himself, "All I need to do is find a husband."

He stared at his hands as he tried to think of a good husband. He fucking hated Kyle and Stan, so he wouldn't bother asking either of them. Plus, he was pretty sure they were already married to each other. He crossed Butters name from the list just because he knew his parents hated him with a passion, and he wanted to have at least a semi decent relationship with his future in-laws.

Right off the bat, he thought Token Black.

Token would be a good husband, had money to his name, and was always changing his clothing to keep up appearances. He bet Token had a lot of dirty clothing that would be in need of constant washing.

He mentally grinned as he walked towards the largest house in all of South Park. It took a while but once he was there, he expected to be received with open arms.

He knocked on the door and Mr. Black approached with a gentle smile on his face as he called out for Token. As the boy came to the door, he offered Craig a high five.

"Hey dude, what's up?"

Craig wondered how he should word it, before shrugging.

"Token, can I be your wife?"

"Excuse me?"

Craig frowned, "Your wife. I want to be your wife."

Token opened the door and shrugged, "Ugh, sure dude. Whatever you like?"

Craig nodded, "Good. Let's go to your room."

Token followed Craig hesitantly, not sure what the hell was going through the boy's head, but he didn't comment as Craig looked at his spotless bedroom with distaste.

"Where are the dirty clothes?"

Token furrowed his brows as he pointed a woman who was walking down the hallway with a basket of dirty designer brand clothes.

Craig practically dashed after the woman, grabbing the basket from her and giving her a glare. "I'll handle it."

The woman tore it out of his hands and cursed in her native tongue, looking at Token in confusion.

"Craig, what are you doing?" Token growled.

"I wanted to do the laundry. Who is that bitch?"

Token shook his head as he glanced at her, "That's our maid. She does all of the laundry, Craig."

"All of the laundry? She does it?"

"Yea, that's what my parents pay her for dude."

"I'm out of here." Craig snapped, flipping off the maid and heading back towards town. He didn't need to be a wife to someone who didn't even need him. Fuck her. Fuck rich people with their snooty maids.

He'd go and do laundry for one of his real friends.

Knocking of the Tweak's front door, his blonde, twitchy, future hubby came to the door.

"Agh, Craig? W-what the hell are you doing here?"

"Tweek, I need you to be my husband."

"Craig, Jesus Christ, _what_! I don't like you like that! No, no way, fuck man, no way!" Tweek shook his head rapidly.

Craig crossed his arms, "Just let me wash your clothes. That's all I want to do."

"Ugh, why can't you wash your own clothes?"

"I need to be a mother." Craig bluntly stated while walking into Tweek's house.

Tweek covered his mouth in shock, before tugging his hair, "But dude, I can't raise a kid with you! I don't even like kids. I don't know how to be a father? Do we need to have sex! Where do babies even come from? Do I top or bottom?"

Craig frowned, "We can worry about the details after, I'm sure raising a child isn't that difficult. Now let me wash your clothes."

Tweek paced nervously as Craig headed towards the laundry room, looking through the baskets of dirty clothes and picking up a pair of white underwear.

Tweek gasped and stole it out of Craig's hands, biting his lip anxiously.

"Tweek give me your underwear. I need to wash them."

"No way, dude! The gnomes have already stolen so many of them, I can't fucking risk it." Tweek growled, clutching the white material between his fingers.

Craig grabbed the underwear, and narrowed his eyes, "I need to wash these. Let go."

"Ngh no you let go!" Tweek yelped, "Craig, let go! Damnit let go!"

Tweek yanked on them and Craig grit his teeth as he pulled back. A ripping sound scared the fuck out of Tweek who fell backwards, half of his underwear's in his hands while the other half was in Craig's.

"See what you did." Craig growled, staring sadly down at the ripped piece of cloth.

Tweek cursed and pointed to the door, "Get out! Out, Craig, get out!"

"But I didn't wash anything yet."

Tweek pointed to the door, "Get out! I'm breaking up with you, find another husband, leave the underpants alone, Jesus Christ, go!"

Craig threw the cloth on the floor, and gave Tweek the middle finger as he stormed out of the house.

Walking down the street he cursed the twitchy blonde. That was supposed to be his permanent husband. Tweek needed someone to do laundry for him, and Craig was happy to put up with the fits, but he underestimated how obsessive Tweek could be with his damn underwear.

Yelling caught his attention, and he stared up from the sidewalk to see Cartman standing on his porch.

He sighed at the fatass and walked over to him, getting desperate now. The tubby boy was arguing with his kitty as it dashed from the house. Cartman's beady brown eyes landed on Craig.

"Well, well, well, isn't it the douchebag." Cartman snapped, "What are you doing here at my casa?"

"I'm looking for a husband."

Cartman quirked a brow, "So your some kind of laundry loving fag now? I should've known!" He started to laugh.

Craig grabbed Cartman by the front of the shirt and yanked him forward, his patience already worn thin.

"All I fucking want to do is find a husband so I can do laundry."

Cartman slapped his hand away, "Ay, if you wanna be my bitch you can't be grabbing me like that! You need to respect my _authoriah_!"

"I absolutely hate you. Do you have laundry for me or not?"

Cartman gave a smirk before ushering Craig into his laundry room. He pointed at a basket of bloody clothes and smirked, "Here you go asshole, I just had chipotle so if you can fix that, then _maybay_ I'll consider making you my ho."

Craig gritted his teeth as he grabbed the bottle of Chipotlaway and some rubber gloves.

He scoffed, "And here I thought you were giving me a challenge."

Cartman watched Craig work diligently for half an hour, before ditching him to watch tv. Over an hour had passed, and Craig was smirking haughtily as he washed and dried Cartman's nasty ass clothes.

As the dryer finally stopped, Craig took a sweater out from it and inhaled the fresh new smell. He had managed to get the reek of cheesy poofs and sweat out of cloth, as well as all the chipotle stains. Even Cartman could smell half decent now.

Said brunette had walked into the room and was watching him cautiously as he plucked the sweater out of Craig's hands and stared at it, before putting it on.

"I'll admit, Tucker, the stains are gone, but you fucked up."

Craig blinked, "What?"

Cartman tugged at the bottom of his sweater, "You shrunk mah sweater! Look at it! Doesn't even fit now and you wanted to be my laundry wife? You fucking ruined it bitch."

"I didn't shrink it, you're just fat." Craig snapped out nastily, before shoving past the ungrateful bastard and leaving his house. "You're a shitty husband. Fuck you."

"Yea you keep walking away, sweater killing ho!" Cartman shouted.

Craig raised his finger into the air and headed towards the poorer side of town, hoping that maybe Kenny would the right husband for him.

Stepping over the train tracks, Craig could spot the parka wearing boy lying on the ground, staring blankly at the sky. Kenny threw a glance Craig's way once the chullo wearing boy came into view.

"Hey dude." Kenny said tiredly, sitting up. His back was covered in mud and snow, and that made Craig lick his lips in anticipation.

Kenny caught the seductive movement and quirked a brow, before giving a sly smirk of his own. "What brings you to these parts, Tucker?"

"I'm looking for a husband." Craig answered, "I think you could be that husband."

Kenny was on his feet in seconds with his hand on Craig's forehead and a look of worry on his face.

"What are you doing?"

Kenny took a step back and started pinching himself, "Wondering if you're sick, or if I'm somehow dead, because I'm pretty sure you just asked me to be your husband."

"That's because I did."

Kenny leaned forward, narrowing his eyes as he watched Craig's features, wondering if the black haired boy was being put up to this. "Wouldn't you rather go on a few dates first? Maybe be boyfriends for a few months? You know, test the McCormick waters before getting hitched?"

"No, I just want a husband."

"Okay, why?"

"So I can be a mom."

Kenny's eyebrows shot up into his hairline, "But Craig, you have a dick."

"Yes I do."

"Yea, so how are you going to be a mom if you don't have the girl parts?"

Craig rolled his eyes, exasperated. "By getting a husband, McCormick."

Kenny shook his head, not bothering to point out the obvious flaws in Craig's theory. He gave a grin instead, "So let's say I agree to be your husband, now what?"

"Let's go to your room."

Kenny's jaw dropped, "My room? Already? But we haven't even gotten to know each other…_like that_. Aren't we rushing into things? I mean, I don't mind personally…"

Craig gave him a hard look before Kenny submitted, "Fine, my room it is. Let's go, wifey."

Craig followed Kenny though the worn down little house before making in into the blonde's tiny space.

Craig felt his face light up as he glanced at Kenny's room. The amount of dirty clothes he could see was euphoric. He fell onto his knees and clutched at the filthy jeans and unwashed boxers, hugging them to his chest.

Kenny looked ashamed at the mess before being taken aback at Craig's weird ass reaction.

Craig stood up, still holding onto the blondes clothing. "You have a lot of dirty clothes." He said bluntly while turning around, practically moaning at how filthy Kenny's parka and jeans were. "Strip."

Kenny pointed at himself, "You want me to strip? Right now?"

"Take off your clothes." Craig commanded.

Kenny leaned forward, his eyes half lidded. "Wouldn't you like to fool around a little first?"

Craig frowned, "This isn't a time for fooling around. I'm serious. Give me your clothes."

Kenny sighed, before pulling his parka off and tossing it to Craig, his blonde hair coming into view. His white wife beater was next, followed by his jeans and socks.

Craig clutched the clothing and his eyes locked around the blonde's boxers. Those needed a good wash.

"I said strip, McCormick."

Kenny laughed, before pulling down his boxers and flinging them at Craig.

"Do you like what you see?" Kenny asked coyly, "why don't you get out of your clothes so we can have some newlywed fun."

Craig glanced at his coat in confusion, "My clothes are clean. Where's your washing machine?"

"Wait what?" Kenny choked out as Craig walked through the McCormick house. Kenny followed after him wrapped up in his bed sheets. "Craig, what are you doing?"

"Looking for your laundry machine."

Kenny blanched as he pointed to the backyard where there was a red plastic tub and a washboard, "You mean that?"

Glancing at the items in his hands, Craig's blue eyes met Kenny's, "None of these need to be hand washed."

"I don't have a washing machine, dude. That's all we got."

Craig scowled before grabbing a plastic bag and throwing Kenny's clothes into it. "I'm divorcing you. I'll wash your clothes at my house. You can have them tomorrow."

Kenny could only stare open mouth, practically naked, as Craig walked out of his house with his belongings, "Divorced after five minutes…that has to be a record," The blonde muttered before closing the front door.

Craig was at a loss. All of his decent choices for a husband had either told him to fuck off, didn't need him, or were just complete pieces of shit, although that may have just been Cartman.

With every step towards Clyde's house, Craig was thinking this was a bad idea. Clyde was a decent friend of his, but to have to be his wife? Ugh, maybe he should just go to stupid Stan Marsh's house.

Actually no, fuck Stan Marsh.

He walked into Clyde's house without knocking, having done this many times before. He left Kenny's clothes at the front door as he headed upstairs, following Clyde's yelling voice. He opened the brunette's bedroom door and stared at Clyde, who was sitting on the floor playing some shooting game.

"Clyde, be my husband."

"Yea sure whatever dude." Clyde responded, looking around Craig so he could see the tv, "Fuck you Kevin! You can't use hacks! No hacks!"

"Great. Give me your clothes." Craig demanded as he gestured to Clyde's taco stained sweater.

"Ugh, fuck Craig, I'm in a game." Clyde snapped as he stopped the game and threw his sweater at the noirette, listening to Kevin's cursing through his headset. "You good? Anything else? No? Fuck. "

Craig looked at his pants, "And those too."

Clyde groaned as he whipped his tracks at Craig, before going back to his game.

Finally someone was letting Craig do what he wanted. Clyde had the attention span of a goldfish, and wasn't attentive enough to be a good husband, but at least he had a washing machine.

Walking downstairs, he entered the laundry room, enjoying the angelic shine that glinted off the washer when he turned the light on. Dropping Clyde's clothing onto the floor, Craig opened the washer, and smiled faintly.

"Oh hey Craig? Enjoying…the inside of my washing machine are you?" Mr. Donovan's voice called out. "What are you doing?"

"Hello sir." Craig said, stepping away from the washer. "I was going to start a load of Clyde's clothes."

"What? No, don't you worry about doing Clyde's laundry. It can be done later."

Craig stared at Clyde's father in confusion. "Who does your laundry?" Craig wondered.

Mr. Donovan rubbed his hands in confusion, "Ugh, well Craig, I do the laundry."

"But you're not a mom…or a woman."

"Well, although that is true, it may come as a surprise but even fathers can do laundry." He chuckled, "it doesn't matter if you're a mom or a dad, it just matters if you remember how much bleach to put in."

Craig felt a small smile break onto his face as he heard those words. It was a breath of fresh air realizing that Craig could still be himself and do his laundry. It was fuckin fantastic. He picked up Kenny's clothes from the floor, planning on running home to wash them in celebration. _Twice. _Wash them twice.

"Thank you." Craig said with what he hope was a thankful tone before making the short trip home, an idea coming to mind. 

Mr. Donovan shrugged, not sure what the hell had just happened.

"Clyde! What did I tell you about making your friends do your chores for you?"

The next day, Craig had Kenny's newly washed clothing folded nicely in a clean cloth bag, and a determined look on his face as he walked to school. As he entered his personal hell, he could see Kenny standing outside the class in a light sweater, his face well exposed.

"Dude, you have my parka right?" Kenny asked, rubbing his chin nervously.

Craig handed the blonde the bag of laundry and Kenny beamed, throwing on his fresh smelling orange parka and giving Craig a thumbs up. "Thanks Craig, you're the best ex-wife I ever had."

Craig nodded as he stood outside, waiting for the class to fill up. As soon as the bell rang, he walked into class and stood at the front, earning surprised looks.

Craig glanced at his classmates, and then his teacher.

He threw up both of his middle fingers as he glared at them all. "Screw you. Boys can like laundry, boys can do laundry, and I don't need a man, a husband, or a douchebag telling me that I can't do what I love just because of my gender."

The girls in the class cheered at Craig's inspirational speech, shouts of _you go girl_ filling the room.

Craig smirked and lowered his fingers, "Fuck class, fuck you Garrison, I'm skipping to wash some fucking clothes."

The class watched in admiration as Craig sauntered out of the class, Mr. Garrison's face turning crimson red in shock at the boy's blatant fuck you.

"Oh!" Kenny snapped up in his seat in realization, causing the class to look at him in confusion, "So _that's_ _why_ Craig told me to strip naked yesterday and ran off with my clothes! It all makes sense now."

Mr. Garrison rubbed his temples as he gritted his teeth, thoughts about calling Craig's parents after class; "I do not get paid enough for this shit."


End file.
